Fallen Angels
by House-less
Summary: House and Cuddy are feeling guilty about having a relationship. Right thing, wrong timing. Set in the end of season 4. Mostly Huddy, Wilson has a major role in the storyline too. Heavy spoilers for the 04x15/04x16. Enjoy !
1. Chapter 1

_Hi guys!_

 _I re-watched the season 4 finale a few weeks ago and the plot of this fiction popped into my mind! I won't give you a lot of details concerning the storyline, you'll just have to know (even if it's obvious) that it's to set at the nearly end of "House's head". If you didn't watch the double-episode, there will be heavy spoilers. Ah, and, it's pretty much canon following, only for the few first chapters._

 _I think that's all, I hope you enjoy it and would be very happy to know what you think about it!_

 _Enjoy :)_

* * *

She woke up in his room. Laying in _his_ bed. Wrapped into _his_ arms. The first thing she saw when she looked up was his blue eyes staring at her in the dark. She didn't move, still in the dizziness of sleep, but her eyes widened. She didn't completely realize the situation both of them were in.

Before she could regain her senses, he rolled onto her body and reached for her lips. Her frown vanished as he forced the barrier of her lips, deepening the kiss. She responded to his caress, unable to think rationally, still half-asleep. Her tongue met his in a rhythmic move. His hands rested on her bare waist while his body pressed against hers and their curves cupped in a perfect osmosis. Cuddy put an arm around his shoulder and brought him closer, her left hand lost in his growing hair.

The intensity of the moment overwhelmed her and she couldn't think about anything else but the feeling of his humid lips gently devouring hers and the weight of his body on hers. His movements were slow and patient, passionate. They kissed with passion, mirroring that of last night. But a deep affection tainted their movements, an affection neither of them could restrain.

Her mind slowly got clear and memories of the last hours came to the surface as his hand moved lazily along her body to caress her thigh. The other hand held her tight, as if he feared she could disappear. He abandoned her lips for a second, breathing sharply before kissing her lips again, not giving her the time to talk. It was like he didn't want to talk about it at the moment and it turned out, neither did she.

"I thought you were an hallucination," he breathed in a whisper when their lips parted, searching for oxygen.

She felt a fluid under her fingers. What happened and what he just said would wait, they would talk later.

"You're bleeding," Cuddy said in a worried voice.

She gestured to him to pull aside so she get up and headed to the bathroom as he did, putting on his t-shirt in her way.

House brought his hand to his head, touched his scar, feeling the red liquid flow from the wound. He smirked when it ached at the same time his leg protested from the effort he demanded it last night. At the thought, questions came up to his mind. _Now what?_ was the main one. He couldn't answer, he truly didn't know what the next move was supposed to be.

House decided to let it flow, see where things where leading him. _Them._ And it wasn't like he had time to think about it, Cuddy was heading back into the room, only in his oversized t-shirt. She put the first-aid box on the bed and ran a hand in her messy hair. She kneeled in front of him on the bed and observed the injury. Avoiding his observing gaze, she started to disinfect his wound.

"Don't provoke me while I have scissors this close to your head, House," she warned him when he started running his hand under the hem of the t-shirt.

"It distracts me," he argued, running his hand along her leg.

"Me too."

He pulled his hand away. "Ouch!"

"Shut up," Cuddy said flatly. "I told you it was a bad idea," she added after a while, considering his wound.

He looked up at her. "Is it?"

"Shh, don't move," she ordered, gently slapping his shoulder. "We'll talk later."

She stitched up the opened injury as quick and good as House let her do. She managed to make another suture to avoid any other opening and cleaned the area before standing up and making her way to the bathroom again.

When she came back, he didn't move, still under the messy bed sheets. He looked up at her, fully dressed. A slight frown painted his face. Cuddy approached the bed, nonchalantly checked his head.

"You could wear something," she pointed out, gesturing to his bare chest.

"You could stay naked," House restocked, raising an eyebrow and smiling as she rolled her eyes.

"Rest a bit, I'll make you some food," she finally said, already heading to the kitchen. "And, really, wear some pants," she added before getting out of the room.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated :)


	2. Chapter 2

Hi everyone! :D

Thank you so much for all the reviews! You guys rock! Also, a huuuge thanks to you Lisa, for the corrections! (hehe, I didn't forget :P) And to you, Ju, for the little helping :*

Here is the second chapter of this story. It's actually a flash-back of a few hours, taking place the night before the beginning of the first chapter. I felt like a "how?" had to be answered, it would be too easy otherwise. Also, there are some outcomes based on it, so… Enjoy it!

And, really, knowing what you thought about it would be amazing!

* * *

" _The other nurse used to tuck me in," he had said, already sitting under the blanket, his back pressed to the_ _headboard_ _._

" _I'll be on the couch. With a shotgun in my lap," she had said in a pompous voice._

" _I'm not asking you to sleep here, I'm asking you to stay here until I sleep."_

 _She'd_ _shaken_ _her head and had walked_ _across_ _the room to close the curtains before_ _she'd sat_ _on the edge of the bed, already regretting it. The room was barely lightened but she could see the_ _malicious_ _look he'd cast her._

" _Lay down," she had said after a sigh._

 _He'd obeyed as she'd put the blanket onto his shoulders, rolling her eyes. "House," she'd blamed as he'd_ _run_ _his hand onto her leg, caressing her knee to make his way under the hem of her skirt afterward. He'd pouted and put his hand onto his chest. "Close your eyes."_

" _Whassup?" he'd said after a while, opening his eyes and smiling like a happy puppy dog, just when she'd thought he was sleeping._

" _Sleep or I'll have to use the shotgun," she had ordered in a desperate voice while raising an eyebrow._

" _I saw you in my hallucination," he'd said out of the blue._

" _You're convinced your patient is dying, and you want to waste your time with a sex fantasy?"_

" _Exactly what you said," he'd approved, a_ _silly smile curving his lips_ _. "And I didn't say it was a_ _sex_ _fantasy."_

" _Was I fully dressed?" Cuddy had asked, hiding her surprise._

" _Most of the time," House had assured with a look that suggested the opposite._

" _How far did it go?" she'd asked, now a bit amused._

" _You were about to take off the bra," he'd said with a pout. "But you decided you were distracting me! Bullshit."_

" _Poor baby," she'd_ _sympathized_ _with a mocking glare, to which he'd responded with a dark look. She had laughed slightly before crossing her legs, now embarrassed._

" _You said the word_ syphilis _and I was still hard, for Christ's sake!" House had added, in order to make her more uncomfortable which had made her blush._

" _Why the hell would I say that in a fantasy? You're weird."_

" _You were helping me to find out_ _what was wrong_ _with the bus driver," he'd calmly answered, as if it_ _were_ _supposed to be logical._

" _While …"_

" _Dancing," he'd helped her._

" _Dancing?"_

 _He had nodded. Cuddy had cleared her throat, announcing the end of that conversation and had gestured to him to lay down again. But House_ _hadn't seemed to be sleepy at that moment_ _. He'd looked at her, the playfulness into his eyes had disappeared,_ _letting_ _a deep emotion she couldn't name come back to the surface._

" _House?" she'd called him, intrigued by his sudden change of attitude._

" _Why did I have that fantasy…" House had murmured more to himself than to her._

" _That's human, I suppose." She hadn't really known what to do or say._

" _Wilson has the Bitch now," he'd added,_ _locking his gaze with hers._ _"I feel lonely."_

" _Maybe it's just because you're a little perverted,"_ _she'd said nervously._

 _He had leaned a bit more toward her._

" _Don't…" she'd whispered, already expecting his next movement._

" _You feel lonely, too."_

" _Not in the same way," Cuddy had pointed out, leaning back a bit._

" _It's what_ you _want to think …" he'd replied, approaching her again. "What do I want, Cuddy?"_

" _Comfort?" she'd suggested, running nervously her tongue on her lip for a second as he'd leaned even closer toward her, which made her lean back even more. She'd been almost laying onto the bed, House on top on her. They didn't look away, frozen into_ _each other's_ _darkened eyes. His gaze had been insistent, piercing her as a smile had appeared on his lips, only to disappear a second later,_ _giving way_ _to a more serious attitude. Cuddy had put the palm of her hand behind her onto the sheets so she'd find her balance and not find herself laying across House's bed,_ beneath _House._

" _Isn't it what you want, too?" he'd asked her, his breath brushing her lips._

" _Not this way," she'd desperately whispered._

" _So, show me," he'd whispered back, only at centimeters from her lips. She'd put her other hand on his chest to_ _push_ _him away, but she had found herself_ _grabbing his tee-shirt_ _and slightly bringing him closer to her._

" _Your head," Cuddy had reminded him, hoping it'd discourage him._ _She'd known_ _it wouldn't._

" _My head_ _couldn't_ _be better, with all this tension."_

" _There is no … It's not wise," she'd finally said. He hadn't answered, he'd_ _known_ _it wouldn't be wise anytime. But it hadn't made her reject him_ _when he'd erased the space between them and captured her lips between his, driving them into a fervent embrace_ _. It'd achieved turning her_ _on._

 _At that time, she could only feel the warmth of his tongue playing with hers, his body pressing against her own, and his_ _hands taking possession of her_ _. He'd been surprised when she'd responded to his caress, not expecting such a reaction. Her reacting to him that way had encouraged_ _him_ _to go further, running a hand under her skirt, along her thigh, while the other had maintained her waist, making her lay completely onto the bed, her back arched. And she didn't shown any reticence or resistance. Every_ _rational thoughts_ _had escaped their minds while he'd started_ _pulling_ _up her top._

" _No bra,"_ _he'd noticed in a rough voice as he'd passed the fabric over her head. "Hi," he'd whispered when the_ _garment_ _had joined the ground and their eyes had met again._

" _Hi," she'd murmured back, a slight smile painted on her lips._

 _He had kissed her again, unzipping her skirt as she'd reached for the hem of his t-shirt,_ _craving to feel his skin against hers_ _. A shiver had_ _run_ _down_ _her spine_ _as the rest of_ _the clothes_ _had continued to fall from their bodies, their lips only_ _breaking'_ _apart to_ _breathe_ _._ _And so she had trembled to the feeling of his mouth onto her flesh, drawing kisses, alternated by soft bites and his tongue caressing then sucking her skin._

 _She'd opened her thighs, welcoming the intimacy offered and_ _it had surprised her how gentle and patient he'd been, taking his time while he could just_ _have taken_ _what he'd wanted right then and right there._ _But he'd_ _waited for her_ _before coming inside of her, groaning in her neck as he did._

 _Maybe they wanted the same thing after all._

* * *

 _TBC…_

 _Here, thanks for reading! Comments are loved ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

Hi everyone!

Here is the third chapter in this story. I'd like to thank you for the reviews you left, they're very encouraging! Keep 'em coming! And as usual, Merci Lisa :*

I hope y'all enjoy this one as well. As I said, there are some spoilers out there.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

The dim light of the early morning enlightened the kitchen, but not enough. Cuddy didn't turn the lights on, though. She turned the coffee machine on and watched the liquid slowly flow from it, lost in thought. Lost, literally. She didn't know where they were and furthermore, where they were going. It was like she was just stuck in the moment and couldn't see further or have a perspective of the very recent events.

And there she was, making him breakfast.

The coffee aroma filled the air, almost imperceptibly. Cuddy took a deep breath as she stared at her jacket lying on the back of the couch and sighed even deeper. She couldn't even tell why she was feeling incredibly good, and yet so bad…

A shiver ran down her spine and dissipated into her whole body at the memories of last night, and she found herself blushing as she traced absently her clavicle. _Like he had done._ Her finger met the strap of her bra and she closed her eyes as she could almost hear him whispering that _'No bra'_ again, almost see the mischief in his dark blue eyes. She shook her head, it was nonsense.

 _She'd entered the bathroom for the second time in fifteen minutes, closing the door behind her this time. She had placed the first aid_ _kit_ _right_ _where_ _she'd found it earlier and faced herself in the mirror. A quick glance. She had been surprised by_ _how… relieved she'd looked_. _And yet, so tired. Cuddy had showered quickly and put on the clothes she had been wearing the day before. She'd picked them up while exiting House's room, he hadn't seemed to_ _notice_ _her, lost in his thoughts._

 _She had returned to the room ten minutes later, checking on House before heading to the kitchen, in order to make food._ _On her way there_ _, she couldn't restrain herself from passing by his living room,_ _where were left on the chair a blanket and her bra._ _Cuddy had lifted it and put it on with a sigh, it had reminded her of him, again. She'd entered the kitchen afterward, checking if anything comestible was left in the fridge and since then, she couldn't stop thinking about_ it.

Cuddy was thinking about how good it'd felt to wake up next to him and not alone in her immense bed when she heard a muffled sound coming from the corridor. She couldn't distinguish the sound of a wooden cane beating the floor, which meant he'd left his cane in the room. Cuddy bit her lip as she noticed his gait was more accentuated than usual. The footsteps were almost inaudible, _barefoot,_ she guessed, waiting to see him appear.

She couldn't restrain a chuckle when she saw him heading to the living room. House turned in her direction and smirked, aware of the reason of her amusement. "Seriously?" she laughed, gesturing to him.

He feigned innocence as he looked at his bare chest. "You're lucky enough I'm American," he said, looking around for something she couldn't define. "English call _boxers_ pants."

"So modest from you," Cuddy commented, looking at him as he took his t-shirt from the couch and put it on. Shaking her head, she returned to her occupation, filling a cup of coffee and putting it on the table, beside the eggs and bacon. "I found some eggs," she told him when he entered the room.

"I'm as surprised as you." They exchanged a look of amusement before he took a sip of the warm coffee, closing his eyes.

A moment of silence followed, only broken by the rhythmic sound of the raindrops falling onto the window. The steam covered it, making it impossible to look through it. A comfortable warmth covered the apartment, in contrast with the guessable cold outside. But the calm wasn't that comfortable.

"You're not at the hospital," House pointed out, looking at the clock behind her. He took a forkful of his meal, nonchalantly chewing the eggs as she gave him a look.

"I took the day off," Cuddy said, crossing her arms on her chest.

"For me?" he asked, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

" _Because_ of you," she corrected, then taking a deep breath, "You okay?"

"Tiptop," he quipped, ironic. "After last night…"

He arched an eyebrow. She let out a sigh. "Tell me about the hallucinations."

House tried to lock his gaze with hers but she kept looking away, he felt a hint of anxiety when she bit her lip. "Did we have sex, Cuddy?" he asked after a little hesitation.

 _I thought you were a hallucination…_ She looked at him, not completely surprised he wasn't making a difference between what was real and not.

"Thought it would be memorable," she teased, trying to hide her discomfort.

"You dancing was, too," he replied, serious.

"We did."

He just nodded, before looking down at his plate. _That was all?_ Cuddy restrained herself from asking him what that meant. She feared it wouldn't be what _she_ understood. Again, an awkward silence covered the atmosphere.

"You're feeling less lonely?" Cuddy asked out of the blue, already expecting his answer.

"Not anymore," House said, not looking at her anymore. Cuddy didn't reply, completely surprised. And lost. It wasn't the answer she thought would come. She didn't know how to interpret _that,_ what it meant for him. And for her. Also, she didn't ask for an explanation, being pretty sure it'd come itself. If there were any explanation to his words. She only nodded, and so did he.

"Be quick, we're going to the hospital," she said then, wearing her jacket. She ignored the confused look he cast her and headed to the doorway. "Your head needs an MRI," Cuddy explained as she found him frowning susceptibly when she came back with her scarf.

"My head is fine," he objected, standing up.

"I'll need to see that myself," she said, looking up at him, not a bit impressed by how tall he was.

"What's that?" he asked, gesturing at the piece of fabric.

" _You tell me," the mystery woman says, smiling._

" _Wha… You… Who are you?" House asks, looking around for Cuddy. It was happening. Again._

" _You know who I am." She starts playing with her necklace. It obviously_ _catches_ _his attention, he steps towards her to look closely. "You like it?"_

" _A mosquito?" He looks into her eyes, confused and lost._

" _Or a fly." Her fingers graze his when he touches the chain._

" _In the ointment. I'm missing something, the bus driver was just a delusion."_

 _The woman smiles and takes his hand so it brushes her cheek. He looks down at it, frozen. Their eyes meet and there is now a red ribbon in his hand. House pulls his hand away, looking at the fabric before gazing_ _at_ _the mysterious woman who was now laying_ _on_ _the table._

" _Use it," she says, looking at his hand – the ribbon._

 _He frowns and_ _takes_ _a step towards her, he doesn't know why, either. "I'll tie it around you," he finds himself saying. She doesn't seem to have an objection, lets him tie the red ribbon around her_ _leg_ _. House looks at her, she has a satisfied smile now._

" _I'm cold."_

 _The woman looks down at his hand, still grabbing the ribbon, he follows. Blood._

"House?" he heard her asking. House looked down at her, dizzy. She gave him a worried and concerned expression, looking into his eyes. He shook his head, coming back to reality and instinctively stared at his hands. One was caressing her cheek while the other was on her thigh, his body pressing her to the edge of the table. He looked up at her again when she called him once more.

" _What's that?" he had asked, gesturing at the piece of_ _fabric_.

" _A scarf, House," Cuddy had replied, frowning from confusion._

 _He hadn't answered. She had looked at him as her frown deepened, her quizzical_ _glance_ _meeting his. He was looking at her but hadn't seemed to see her, his look was absent, inexpressive._

" _House?" she'd tried again, in vain. "What's going on?"_

 _No response. She'd almost_ _yelped_ _in surprise when he brought his hand near her cleavage, touching her skin with only one finger, his eyes_ _staring at_ _the zone where his finger_ _had gently_ _caressed her. He'd looked at her after a few seconds, again without really seeing her._

 _And then, she'd realized._

 _She'd stepped back as he had made a step towards her, hitting the table's edge. Her hands had immediately found place onto the furniture, her eyes still locked with his. His had_ _left_ _her sternum to caress her cheek and his eyes had followed the movement. So had Cuddy's. It had been a gentle touch, light and soft. House had kept grazing her cheek, moving his other hand, this time to take in hand the scarf around her neck. He'd cast her a quizzical look, she hadn't_ _moved_ _._

" _House," she'd called when he had put a hand_ _on_ _her thigh, unlocking their eyes to look at her leg, then looking back at her._

"House," she called his name again. This time, he looked at her, seeming lost.

"It's not over, someone else is dying," he whispered, sliding his hands along his body.

"Wh –

"I need to go back to that bus," House said. It sounded like a realization.

"You're not. You had a fucking _hallucination,_ House. Again. You need to rest, and medical care." she resolutely objected, putting a hand on his arm to bring his attention.

"I'm not getting better with this puzzle unsolved."

"And I'm not calling in crash victims to satisfy your insanity," she said, affronting his determined gaze.

"A reconstitution will be enough."

"Hou –

But he was already limping toward his bedroom, taking off the white t-shirt on his way there. Cuddy followed him, stopping in the doorway of the room, her hand on her hip and staring at him with a serious face. "Are you high?!"

"Yes, I'm high, Cuddy. I always am!" he shouted, turning to face her as he buttoned his shirt. He took his leather jacket and the amber bottle from his bedside table, managing to be seen by her while swallowing two pills as he passed near her. "You coming? I can't drive while _high,"_ he called from the corridor.

She swallowed the guilt she felt every time he took an opiate and followed him, well aware the situation was escaping her control. "This is ridiculous," she pointed out as she passed the doorway and closed the door behind her, House already two footsteps in front of her.

Talking would wait, again.

* * *

TBC..

Thanks for reading, reviews are very appreciated! ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Hello guys!

Here we go with the fourth chapter of this fiction! It strangely could sound like the end of it, but lol no. Let's be clear, there are a lot of things similar to what happened in the show in this chapter. I tried to make it as personalised as I could, I hope you won't get bored, it's for the storyline's sake! The other scenes that are not present here went exactly like they did in the show.

So, yeah, spoilers alert! I also took some lines directly from the episode, which I don't own. Don't sue please.

I'd like to thank everyone reviewed, followed or added the fiction to his favorites! It always makes my day! Also, Merci Lisa for the correction :*

Enjoy and let me know what you thought!

* * *

Wilson closed the car door as he sat on the back seat of Cuddy's car. She didn't wait for him to settle correctly to resume driving, though carefully. He met House's gaze in the rear-view mirror and cast him a quizzical look, confused.

"The bus driver wasn't the one I saw having a symptom. It's a coincidence," House explained.

"He wants to …" She looked at House. " _Reconstruct_ the scene so he finds out who was that person who's presumably dying," Cuddy said, exasperated. She turned her head to look in front of her while driving.

"To save someone's life," he added in his defense.

"You should start with saving yours." Cuddy accelerated a bit.

"This is –

" _Insane!_ " she cut him off. "You, House, are going crazy and we are agreeing to be a part of your silly little game," Cuddy sighed, turning on the left.

"No one asked you to come and agree to be a part of my _little game_." He resolutely looked in front of himself.

" _Silly_ little g –

"Stop!" Wilson interfered, then paused for a second, "You two were together?" he asked.

"That's the only thing you noticed?" Cuddy replied, now irritated. "I was passing by to check on him."

"You call me pushing inside you _'passing by to check on him'_?" House pointed out, avoiding her _really_ irritated gaze. He wished he could disappear.

"You were probably pushing inside yourself while dreaming."

"Anatomically possible." Cuddy sighed deeply and prayed they would reach the reconstitution scene as quickly as possible. "But your –

"We don't want to know," Wilson cut him off, not buying it. "How did you know the bus driver was a coincidence?"

"A hallucination," he answered, taking two pills from the bottle in his jacket.

"You really need medical care," Wilson sighed.

"See." Cuddy glanced at House before parking the car, her eyes reflecting tiredness. "What's that?" she asked, gesturing to the bottle of pills he had in his hand.

"Candies," House said, putting it on his pocket.

Cuddy curved her lips in a confused expression and removed her seat belt, letting go. They glanced at the bus parked in an abandoned basket ground. House's teams were there, talking near the vehicle. Cameron gestured in their direction as she saw them, urging them to come. Wilson got out of the car first, closing the door in a soft push. He made a few steps when House started to unlock the car door.

"Hey," she stopped him. He looked at her, a hand on the car door. "I don't want anyone to know you were _pushing inside me_. At least not before we talk. Seriously," Cuddy said, looking into his eyes and running her tongue onto her lips.

He nodded, silently accepting before he resumed opening the door and got out. Cuddy took a second, breathed deeply and cut the engine off before following the two men.

* * *

Wilson stared at Chase as he prepared Amber for the protective hypothermia, his mind was muddled and he couldn't think straight. He turned on the bypass machine and looked up at Wilson as he nodded. Wilson bitterly bit his lower lip as he tried to take control of himself and looked at House, then at Amber again.

" _Protective hypothermia," he'd said as he had stopped him from restarting her heart._

" _Freeze her? Her heart isn't beating," House had shot, his fingers searching for a heartbeat on Amber's neck._

" _If we restart her heart, whatever she has, it'll gain her brain and kill it. Freezing her will bring us time to find out," Wilson had begged him, alternating looks between House and Amber's unconscious body._

" _It's not a solution ..."_

" _It's Amber, House." They'd exchanged a look. "Please," Wilson had whispered._

 _With a nod, House had ordered a cold saline solution and Wilson had obeyed._

When Wilson looked in House's direction again, he wasn't there anymore. Neither was his team.

* * *

" _You were together?" Taub had asked, after a quick first differential._

" _Dunno," House had said, sitting at his desk, massaging his temple._

" _Getting better?" he had asked, gesturing to his head._

" _No. And it's getting worse with you trying to play_ _detective_ _."_

" _You were in the bus together, maybe you two met at the bar, too," Taub had continued, ignoring him. "How much of those did you take?" he had added as House had swallowed two Vicodin. "This is the doctor talking."_

" _Lost count," House_ _had replied_ _, putting the bottle onto the desk. "I wasn't having an affair with her."_

" _Maybe it was the first time," he had suggested, but had regretted it when House cast him a dark look. "I was thinking about drugs."_

" _Tell me when you get the negative results."_

 _Taub had nodded and had got out of the office,_ _leaving_ _House to his thoughts._

House didn't move since the discussion he had with Taub. He couldn't negate that he could've been right, that he and Amber could've met at that bar for something not as innocent as he was trying to convince himself. Drunk, he wasn't aware of his actions, after all.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the diagnostic, questions would come later. The sudden low light made him open his eyes; it was barely 4 p.m. _His whiteboard is facing him, a black pen is in his hand when he looks down. He stands up, limps to the board and writes 'Drugs' on it, before drawing a huge question mark next to it._

" _Are you okay?" the voice behind him says._

* * *

Electricity.

Cuddy was attending to Amber when House limped in the ICU room, she looked up, quizzical. Wilson didn't seem to notice him, sitting near Amber and caressing her head while murmuring soft words in her ear.

"Can we talk?" House asked Cuddy, approaching the bed.

She looked up to meet his gaze, and nodded while watching Wilson. He just nodded before giving all his attention to Amber again. "Sure," Cuddy said, following him outside.

"Deep brain-stimulation," he announced when she closed the door behind her.

"Wh… House, no," she objected, getting what he wanted to do.

"It has been proved that –

"That in normal time it's dangerous, and in your case fatal," Cuddy cut him off, crossing her arms onto her chest.

"I can handle it," he said, tightening his grip on his cane, frowning. He knew she was right but…

"Find another way, but you're not touching that brain, House," she said firmly, her eyes not hiding her worry. "And, hey, have some rest."

"Why are you so worried _now_?" he asked her, stepping towards her.

"I don't know, maybe because you have a five centimeters scar and want to open you head so you can electrocute it?" she suggested, resting her back on the wall. "Find another way."

He nodded, defeated, and headed back to the DDx room as his team paged him. Cuddy watched him as he walked through the corridor and entered the elevator, and regained the room to tell Wilson that House wanted him to come.

* * *

He laid on the armchair, his feet resting on the footrest while his dark jacket covered his chest. House closed his eyes, hoping he could find sleep this time. All his body was aching and his mind wouldn't let him rest, he was overthinking. They'd gone to that bar, came back with an hypothesis to be thrown in another direction after he'd hallucinated her again. Hepatitis B was out of the way, and the cultures came back negative; the other tests they'd run too. And now, her brain was affected.

"You should go home," a gentle voice said.

House opened his eyes, expecting to see Amber again. Beside the diagnostic, the hallucinations he had were perturbing him. He was confused, and the amnesia wasn't helping. What happened was unknown to him, and he hated that. He hated what his hallucinations suggested.

He met Cuddy's gaze and found himself smiling, seeming to be relieved to see her. She returned the smile, her shoulder leaning against the doorframe and her arms crossed on her chest. "I'm good," House replied, turning into a half-sitting position. She easily guessed he was hurting so much he couldn't go home that night. Cuddy only nodded in the quasi-obscurity, as she tilted her head to the side.

"Wanna talk?" he asked her as she was still in the doorframe.

"I don't know," she teasingly answered. "You?"

"It depends," House said, implicitly inviting her to come closer, which she did.

He moved a bit to make her a place where to sit when she arrived at his height. She took place on the armchair, facing him. "What are you thinking about?" she started.

"Amber," he sincerely said, looking at the Vicodin pills on the coffee table. "I keep hallucinating her."

Cuddy remained silent, following his gaze and then, looking at him again. "She gives me keys, but she's so enticing…" House continued. "And it's my subconscious, I …"

"You wouldn't do that," Cuddy tried to reassure him, running a hand in her hair. She put her elbows on her knees and looked intensely at him.

"I was drunk."

"Even drunk," she insisted. A tiny smile appeared on his lips.

"Is it jealousy I see there?"

"I have nothing to be jealous about. Not yet," she said, knowingly. His smile widened. "Have some sleep, you'll figure it out tomorrow."

"You won't tuck me in?" he innocently asked.

She giggled. "No, you naughty boy," she said, leaning over to kiss the corner of his lips. "Goodnight."

A hint of a smile was still on his lips as he whispered a ' _goodnight'_ , but she was already gone. He moved into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes, adjusting the jacket on his shoulders. He fell asleep with the thought that she was the only good outcome of what was happening.

* * *

The cafeteria was empty. Empty and plunged into darkness. Only one chair was occupied by a man. His shoulders were slumped and his head drooping, he was giving her his back but she could guess the expression of deep sadness and despair that painted his face during the two past days. She approached him.

"Thank you," he politely refused when she proposed him a cup of coffee. She nodded, sitting down in front of him. Wilson raised his head to see her face, she worriedly was looking at him. "He'll find out what's wrong with her, I know that. But I'm afraid it'd be too late," he said, shocking his head. He needed to talk to someone.

"Or after he kills himself?" Cuddy said, raising a bit the tone of her voice. "He's overthinking, abusing meds, already has a fractured skull and now wants a…"She stopped, realizing she got a little bit carried away. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be telling you this," Cuddy apologized.

"What is it, Cuddy?" Wilson asked, now worried. And intrigued.

"It's nothing, forget it." She took her head in her hands and inhaled deeply before looking at him again.

"He's my friend, I need to know," he insisted. "Cuddy."

A sigh escaped her mouth as she damned the slip of her tongue. "Deep-brain stimulation," she informed him, not giving him details, she already knew he'd understand what she was referring to. "I already told him it was out of the question."

Wilson only nodded.

* * *

Cuddy angrily slammed the prep room's door open. Chase raised both eyebrows and shrugged before leaving her alone with Wilson. He cast her a quick look before resuming washing his hands for the intervention.

"I didn't tell you about it to make him do it, Wilson," she started, washing her hands, too.

"I… I didn't push him to," he argued, not looking at her.

"No, you only guilted him into doing it!"

"It's not –

"It'll kill him, Wilson!" she almost yelled. She rapidly dried her hands and wore a green blouse.

"I know it's selfish but I love her, Cuddy!"

"And I love _him!_ " Cuddy said, this time yelling.

Silence filled the air with her words. Cuddy looked down, realizing what she'd just said.

"So… It was true? You…" Wilson asked, still shocked.

"I don't know yet." She pushed the operating room's door as she looked at him. "Don't worry, I'm just saying goodbye. Just in case."

With that, she entered the surgery, leaving Wilson behind her.

"You're an idiot," she accused, approaching him. He looked at her, seeming relieved she came.

"Hey."

"Hey," Cuddy whispered, trying to hide the emotion in her voice.

"You're here to make me change my mind?" he asked.

"No. But you still are an idiot," she said, leaning over to be at his height. He slightly giggled. "Try not to die," came her murmur.

"Yep!" House said, falsely enthusiast. "You'll be there to tuck me in?" he asked mischievously. Both of them knew it was a cover, an attempt to cool down the atmosphere.

"If you're very good." They smiled at each other.

* * *

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the light of the ICU room. It was dim, though. He looked at his side and saw her, sitting beside his bed on an uncomfortable chair. House squeezed her hand when he felt it grazing tightly his. Cuddy immediately opened her eyes and stood up, coming closer to him. She caressed gently his head, inciting him to stay calm. He opened his mouth but she shook her head.

"Shh, you need to rest."

"Can you…" He couldn't articulate his demand, and not only because he just came out of a coma. But strangely, there was no need to finish his request.

He pulled aside a bit, and she understood. Carefully, she leaned beside him, her head resting on his shoulder with her hand on his chest. He encircled his arm around her and closed his eyes, trying not to think about the look Wilson had given him minutes ago.

" _You're mad at me?" he asks, looking up at her._

 _"No. I don't agree with what you did, but I understand you."_

Wilson nods, sighing as he tried to hide his emotions. " _How is he?" he asks her when she sits beside him on the bench._

" _Out of coma. Sleeping." She touches his arm. "How are you?"_

" _Bad. But it's time to let her go," he murmurs, biting his trembling lip._

" _She could survive a few hours on bypass…" she starts. "We can –_

" _It'd be so cruel… No…" Wilson objects weakly, but couldn't finish._

" _Wake her up. See her,_ _one_ _last time. And tell her what she means to you," Cuddy continues, encouraging. "I'm sure she would want it to go this way," she adds, hugging him as he leans toward her and_ _takes_ _her in his arms._

" _I'll see House first," he says after a while._

He tried not to think about everything but the reassuring warm body stuck to his. Both of them slept after a while, accepting each other's presence in that new way.

Talking wasn't necessary after all, acts were much more significant.

* * *

TBC...

Please let me know if you liked it... Or not!

Merry Christmas to everyone who's celebrating it!


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello y'all!_

 _I'm sorry about the delay between the previous chapter and this one, but I've been a little busy these days. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short chapter, the following will be longer, and, I hope, will come soon. I thank you for your reviews, really, they're so motivating! Thank you!_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Cuddy slowly opened her eyes, emerging from the deep sleep she'd been in. She couldn't remember the last time she slept that comfortably, even though the circumstances. It'd been two long and exhausting days, and she could say that the coming would be even harder, but when she woke up, she couldn't restrain a feeling of contentment she didn't feel in what seemed to be forever. She felt light and … Happy. It was, she knew, because of the man that curled his warm arms around her and slept stuck to her body. She thoughtfully wondered if it would last.

But he wasn't next to her anymore. A vague wave of panic surrounded her as she felt the hospital bed and found nothing but cold sheet. Cuddy jumped on her feet in an instinctive movement to find him. Calling his name, she looked around in hope to see him suddenly appear to her eyes, but the room wasn't that big and she quickly figured out House was no long in it.

"House?" Cuddy called him again, checking in the tiny closet. Empty. She was considering calling a nurse to ask her where House had vanished when she heard a muffled sound of a flush been pulled in the adjacent bathroom.

"Here!" he called in an annoyed voice.

A sound of a flush later, Cuddy was kneeling beside him, mechanically rubbing his back as he leaned again toward the toilet bowl, his stomach threatening to throw out the rest of its content. He didn't push her away, welcoming a familiar presence. The thought that he'd never felt the need not to be alone crossed his mind but vanished quickly as his stomach didn't allow him to think further.

"Can you hold my hair, please?" he said mockingly, looking at her for a second before turning to the porcelain seat again.

Cuddy shook lightly her head and stood up, looking for something. "Why are you dressed?" she asked, handing him the toilet-paper. She hadn't notice it before.

"You'd prefer me undressed?" he retorted, trying to smirk and weakly raising an eyebrow. He saw her slightly smiling as she rolled her eyes in fake despair and accepted her help to stand on his feet. He wondered where his cane was.

He achieved cleaning his face and mouth and tuned around to face her. She approached him, offering her help to regain the room. Again, he didn't resist and put an arm around her shoulders. "I prefer you laying and having some rest," Cuddy said, gesturing to the hospital bed.

He unhooked his arm from her shoulder and pulled away, trying to find his balance. He leaned on the doorframe and locked his eyes with hers and, inevitably, his heart flickered to the worry he read in her blue-gray eyes.

House considered her a few more seconds before finally leaning over her and grazing her lips with his, relishing the sweet flavor of strawberry on them. He didn't try to go further to deepen the kiss, letting her take the initiative. Which she did, with mitigated feelings. She felt at ease in his embrace, but in the same time, a strange feeling melted into the latter. She felt like it was wrong, like they hadn't the right to while Wilson was grieving.

"This is awkward," she said once their lips parted, stepping back.

"I rinsed my mouth," he said on his defense, half-jokingly.

"I know, I wasn't talking about that," Cuddy said, not entering in his game. "Let's put you back to bed."

"I'm going home," House said after a while, trying to make a step forward.

"Absolutely." Her frown contradicted her verbal agreement.

"I'm okay," he simply said.

With her arms crossed over her chest, she leaned on the opposite side of the doorframe and defiantly looked at him, waiting for his genius and valuable excuse. "I don't want to see him," House said, making his way inside the room with difficulty.

Cuddy stood there, motionless, still assimilating the meaning of what he'd said. It was valuable excuse and it made her feel an unknown and deep sadness that she'd never felt before. She followed him to the room after a sigh.

"I'll give you a ride," Cuddy offered, handing him his cane.

He simply nodded as he sat down on the bed as she went to the nurse station to complete the procedure so he could get out of the hospital. _This is awkward._ Her reaction didn't left him motionless, his brain was tempting to analyze and figure out what was the meaning of those words, and what she felt exactly about ' _this'._

A tiny smile appeared on his lips, himself didn't know what was the outcome of what was happening between them, he wasn't even able to define exactly what it meant to him, and even less to them. He managed to get up without too much hurt and started to pick up his clothes while waiting for her.

House met his reflection on the tiny mirror inside the closet and sighed. He looked tired to no end. His beard was thicker than usual and his features were gaunt, wrinkles and wounds appearing more evidently. He was floating in his black shirt and his jeans needed a tighter belt. He shook his head and run a hand on his face, he needed to surface.

He put a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in his back bag as he heard her entering the room and push away his thoughts, he'd have enough time to cogitate once at home. With a light shook of his head and without an exchanged word, they made their way to the parking lot where Cuddy's car was parked.

* * *

TBC...

Thanks for reading, and comments are loved! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Hello guys!

I'm sorry if this took me so long, I didn't expect it to. I hope you enjoy this part! Again, thanks to everyone for your kind words, they Mean a lot for me :)

* * *

The door closed, causing a vaguely audible sound as the wind slammed it shut more violently than she wanted, and Cuddy hurried to help House to stand still as he dangerously flinched. She let her purse and House's backpack drop from her shoulders and supported the man, guiding him to his room. The few steps they made to reach the bedroom seemed to be miles, to both of them, but Cuddy was glad he didn't try to make it any harder and cooperated easily, which surprised her to a certain extent.

Once sitting on the edge of his bed, safe and sound – almost, Cuddy headed back to the doorway, picking up the bags she'd negligently left on the floor before returning to the room where House was half-laying now.

She looked down for a second as he rubbed his thigh, guessing he wouldn't want anyone to witness the moment. It was too intimate, too humiliating, and she knew things about that. She knew that despite the change in their relationship, pain was a bubble that no one was allowed to enter, not that easily. She also knew that guilt was a major factor explaining her behavior but preferred not to admit it. So Cuddy busied herself cleaning up his stuff, putting his clothes into the closet and taking medical instruments from her bag.

"This really is insane," she said, back to him.

"We both are doctors, I'll survive." He put his hurt leg onto the mattress with a help of his hands, grimacing as a cramp ran through his spine. He was glad she intentionally didn't face him, but didn't make a comment about it.

"We don't have a hospital's commodities," Cuddy countered, preparing a syringe of a sedative and again pausing a second before turning to face him. "I'll have to go back to the hospital. I'm giving you a sedative and painkillers, so don't take any Vicodin," she said, planting the needle in his arm as he weakly nodded.

He let his head fall backward, closing his eyes and relishing the sensation of appeasement that overwhelmed him once the cocktail started to show its effects. Cuddy looked at him, confused and relieved.

"I still think you should be hospitalized," she said as she put the syringe on the bedside table, not losing eye-contact with him. She looked at him with compassion and understanding, but also with worry and she didn't hide it when he pierced her with his own gaze.

"I still don't want to hear my best friend saying I killed his girlfriend," House said in a low voice. So low that he hoped it was enough not to be heard. But she heard it. She also knew that it was a dangerous ground to go through, and that she had to be careful with her word choice as the man facing her would retract and return to his fortress and not get out of it again if he felt too exposed. But somehow, the things that were happening between them and him trusting her enough to open himself that way gave her the confidence to try.

"It's not your fault," she murmured, risking to touch his arm.

"I didn't say it was. But he will," he said, looking at her without really seeing her, his mind was absent, now. And it wasn't only because of the injection she gave him.

"He's angry at the world, it'll pass," she tried to rationalize, without hoping it'd really make him feel better, even slightly.

"Will it?" he added, sarcasm filling the tone of his voice. "I went far this time," House said, more to himself.

"You don't have to control everything all the time," Cuddy gently told him. The thought that they'd rarely had a deep and calm conversation crossed his mind. He found himself liking it though it wasn't easy. Although he wasn't comfortable, he didn't fear her reaction, and it was just okay.

"This is how I stay safe," he said, now his voice a bit sleepy, and warm. He closed his eyes a second and she watched him. In spite of his tired features, she thought he was agreeable to look at, with all the wrinkles that defined his face, his little nose, the thin lips that a neglected beard devoured, and the blue eyes of his that met her blue-gray ones when he opened them.

"Safety isn't about control," Cuddy countered, frowning a bit. Her nose wrinkled, as it often did when she was arguing or confused, and he'd always found that beautiful on her.

"Yeah, safety is about the feeling others give us," he said, mockingly and somehow bitterly. He perfectly understood what she meant, and so did she.

"Not automatically. But being alone doesn't mean you're safe."

She didn't look away, neither did he, though it allowed them to read in each other. But being bare-souled didn't bother them at that very moment. Their eyes spoke more loudly than their words, and they revealed all the unsaid things they hid in between the words.

"I'd rather be," he said, shrugging. His thigh started to wake up and his head to feel dizzy. He put a hand on his scar and massaged it slightly through his jeans.

"This isn't what you said last time," Cuddy objected, an eyebrow slightly higher than the other. "What was _that,_ then?"

"What is _this_?" he asked in his turn, vaguely gesturing to the space between them.

Cuddy bit her lip. Now _that_ was a dangerous ground for _her._ For both of them, in fact. She had no idea what would be his reaction to any of her answers, not that she had one. "I don't know," she sincerely said, trying to keep her eyes locked to the oceans fixing her.

"Unknowns are safe?"

"I'd take the risk."

He didn't say a thing, just contemplating her eyes that asked him that silent question. _Would you?_ He didn't know the right answer to that. It was not like there was a right or a wrong one, he just didn't know to what point he'd push his limits, and for now, he preferred to be safe. And she understood that.

So she got up after a sigh and reached for her purse, before returning near him and handing him two pills and the glass of water that was onto the bedside table. "Take it, it'll help you to sleep," she said, taking the needle and other instruments she used and heading to the bathroom as he took the meds. "I'll be back at 4. Call me at the first problem, I don't want to have to deal with a half-dead man," she said as she went back to the room and took her stuff.

She exited the room as he nodded, settling correctly under the blanket.

* * *

Cuddy closed the folder and put it on top of the ones she had already consulted before taking another one and opening it without pausing. The sooner she resumed her work, the better it'd be, and she had a lot of it since she had neglected her job in the few past days, considering the circumstances.

She consulted her wrist-watch as a knock on the door came to her ears. 10 a.m. Without raising her head and still filling a form, she allowed the person behind the wooden door to come in with a distracted ' _yes?_ '. She stopped running her ink pen onto the paper in a sudden movement, putting it aside as she met Wilson's dead gaze. She thought that even in sorrow, he didn't lose his good manners. Cuddy looked down for a moment, feigning to put the folders away. She wondered if he slept at the hospital.

"Wilson," she saluted him once she recollected herself.

"You have a minute?" he asked, playing nervously with his hands and looking at his shoes.

"Sure. You want to go somewhere else?" Cuddy offered, already getting up and getting around her desk.

"Thank you," he said, grateful. Being in the hospital revived not so dead memories and, for the moment, he'd rather forget everything. He was glad she understood that. He watched her put on her coat, reaching for her purse afterward and silently asking him if they may go as she put her phone into it. His response was silent, too. Nodding, Cuddy preceded him toward the door and paused, waiting for him to follow. She opened it as she heard his footsteps and they made their way through the main door of the hospital.

* * *

Smiling at the waiter that gave her the menu, she ordered only two coffees, after quickly consulting Wilson who seemed to approve. The suit-dressed man nodded and walked away to get their order ready after a few polite phrases, leaving them alone at the tiny table of the café.

"How are you?" Cuddy queried, biting her lip as soon as the stupid question escaped her mouth. Actually, she didn't know how to deal with other people's grief.

"You already know how I am," Wilson said, looking at his joined hands in front of him.

"I… I am sorry," she apologized, her lips curving in a genuine expression of guilt. "You can talk to me, if you want," she gently offered, putting a hand on his. They were cold.

"I don't know what to say."

Cuddy took a moment and looked at the street, through the window that gave a view on the animated town. For those people outside, it was just a normal day, but not for the man beside her. She measured her words this time. "How do you feel?"

"Unfair. I feel like this is unfair," Wilson said, his voice trembling and it felt like each word he said was a struggle.

"Life is unfair," Cuddy replied, turning to look at him. He lowered his head, slightly tightening his grip on her hand. "All we can do is keep fighting to make it a bit less so."

He looked back at her, she was right. But the last thing he felt capable of doing right now was fighting against the injustice of life. "Yeah, I guess I'll just get over it," he said, though, with no real enthusiasm in his voice and eyes.

"You'll be fine, just give it time," Cuddy added, a tiny but encouraging smile on her lips and squeezing his hand in turn. He was glad she was there. He did his best to return her smile but all his lips did was tremble before they froze again.

"Thank you. For being here," he said, looking down at the table again. He wanted to say something, but didn't know how, or even if he had the strength to say those words. Cuddy didn't say anything, she just shared his silence; and his sorrow, as much as she was capable of feeling it. She put an arm around his shoulders and stood still, her other hand in his. The coffee had been on their table for several minutes and was probably cold now, but neither of them touched their cup.

"The… Funeral. It's tomorrow," he said, as if he was realizing it right then and right there. "Will you…"

"Of course, Wilson. I'll be there," she quickly affirmed, meeting his gaze and hoping it'd reassure him to a certain extent.

He nodded, looking away and freeing his hand, to take the cup of coffee in front of him. The discussion had exhausted him beyond belief and the coming days seemed to be a mountain of which he couldn't see the peak. He appreciated the silence that filled the air for a moment, but he could feel that Cuddy wanted to say something else, and that something visibly bothered her.

"Wilson… Do you want him to come too?" Cuddy asked, after a long hesitation.

* * *

Thank you for reading, reviews are very appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

Hello everyone,

It's been forever, I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know.

The chapter has been revised, thanks Lisa!

* * *

House put a leg onto the floor. His feet were bare and the ground was cold under his flesh, causing a shiver to run through his back. He put the other foot out of the blanket and tested the pain that putting it on the floor would cause. Sharp, but not unbearable.

He then scanned the room with his dead gaze, looking around for his cane. He smiled as his eyes fell on it, leaning against the bedside table on which several pills were aligned, beside a glass full of water. Cuddy.

He took the wooden cane and helped himself to get up, slowly measuring his footsteps as he didn't trust his leg. He'd slept for over twelve hours and the pain was starting to emerge with him waking up. That sole thought made him ache, and he swallowed two painkillers that Cuddy had apparently left for him. Her telling him once that his pain was mainly caused by psychological issues came back to his memory, and deep down, he knew that she wasn't exactly wrong about that.

House shook his head, regretting it immediately as his head protested, sending pain signals to his whole body. Taking carefully one last step, he put his left hand on the doorframe and tried to find his balance, concentrating on his labored respiration. He thought that he should take better care of himself, since he had a skull fracture, before doing the exact opposite and limping out of the bedroom.

The hallway was dark, but a light came from the kitchen and his living room. He didn't stop at the strange feeling having someone to share his apartment with gave him and made his way to the room, his limping more accentuated than it'd been in months. A small traveling bag had been conscientiously put onto the ground, near the front door. He guessed it could only be Cuddy's and wondered if she was staying for long, not knowing if he'd prefer her to.

But for the moment, the woman in his kitchen caught his attention more than all the questions running into his overthinking mind. She was sitting at the kitchen table, her laptop in front of her, a spreadsheet opened – probably some expense reports. He watched her put her glasses down and bring the cup of what seemed to be tea to her mouth.

A quick look at the clock informed him it was already 8 p.m. Believing she had come back at 4 like she'd told him, Cuddy had been at his place for at least four hours and that reassured him quite a bit, though he wanted to deny it. She was there, working quietly while he was sleeping.

"You shouldn't be awake," her voice came, getting him out of his thoughts.

"I am not sleepin' beauty," House groaned, walking across the room till he reached a chair.

"For six years, and every morning, you were," Cuddy teased him, knowing it'd piss him off a little bit more and it amused her to see him complaining. She wondered if he was in that mood every time he woke up and preferred not to think about it.

"I wasn't sleeping."

She raised her head and saw him yawning, making himself at ease in the chair before she looked in front of herself again. She imagined all those morning where he couldn't get out of bed because his leg hurt, imagined him struggling not to yell out of pain while he burnt in hell in silence and wished she could do something to help that.

"You hungry?" she asked, before her guilt overwhelmed her again.

"Yeah," House approved, more to please her than because he was really hungry. He knew she needed to make herself useful, to do something for him, he knew her too well. Her overcaring side wasn't unknown to him and he guessed that his proclivity for independence wasn't for her, either. But sometimes it was okay to let go a bit, though he didn't know why he was docile and uncomplaining as he was supposed to be. It surprised him as much as it seemed to surprise her.

Cuddy nodded, closing her laptop and busying herself making him food. He watched her, analyzing her as she put a bowl of soup in the microwave. He frowned, discovering what his _feast_ was and sighed, making Cuddy shrug and lean against the table's edge, her arms crossed over her chest.

"You saw him?" he said, seconds later. It wasn't really a question, he knew that if she hadn't seen Wilson, she'd have at least called him. What he didn't know, though, was why he was asking her about him, and more importantly, why he cared. But he did.

"Yes," she replied honestly, looking at the microwave's timer. And then at him. He didn't say a word, waiting for her to say more. But she didn't.

"How is he?"

"You know how he is," she said, sitting next to him on a chair. "Talk to him," she advised him.

He didn't turn to see her features, he knew the bitter smile that was on her face every time she wanted to be encouraging. "He doesn't want to see me."

"You don't know that."

"I know him."

"Well, obviously not that well."

This time, he turned toward her and questioned her with his eyes. Cuddy sighed.

"I asked him if he wanted you at the funeral." She paused, waiting for his reaction – excessive, knowing him. Much to her surprise, he didn't make any comment; he just watched her, waiting for her to continue. She could read apprehension in his eyes. "He said that he didn't know," she continued. "I think he wants you to go."

"I won't," he eventually said, getting up and limping to the couch.

* * *

They didn't speak about it for the rest of the day; Cuddy had focused on some paperwork she'd brought with her from the hospital and House had watched TV most of the evening, before he'd fallen asleep on the couch. He'd expected a categorical refusal from Wilson, but now that he had talked to Cuddy, he didn't know what to think anymore.

They'd eaten dinner in silence too; exchanging a word or two, nothing serious. Cuddy had told him briefly about the evolution of his patient's state and House had given her a summary of his own, to her demand. After which he'd gotten up, yawned lazily and managed to make his way to the bedroom, leaving Cuddy to her files.

* * *

He couldn't sleep. His overthinking mind working more thoroughly when he was alone. His main thoughts, much to his surprise, were directed to the woman asleep in the next room. He realized, with all what happened to Wilson - to him, too - that he hadn't to always watch his steps concerning everything, especially when it was a matter of heart. _He took her for granted_. Wilson had taken Amber for granted too, and here he was.

She was almost asleep when he sat on the long-chair, startling her in the process. It was dark, and late. Cuddy lazily opened her eyes

"House –

"I don't want to feel lonely," he cut her off, referring to their night two days before. His voice was only a murmur when he spoke. They could barely see each other's features but guessed them easily. "I'll take the risk, too."

Hearing those words, she could swear she'd pass out at that moment and die a happy woman. She closed her eyes and, despite the rational part in her that told her not to, grabbed his collar and brought him down to her, meeting his lips halfway as an answer.

Their kiss was slow and passionate. Unlike the one at the hospital, it didn't feel awkward – like she'd stated. It was just natural and tender.

"Dream on," she teasingly whispered as his hands began to travel all over her body and tried to pull off her t-shirt. "That wouldn't be wise when your skull is fractured," she added when he pouted.

He tsk'd, kissing her lightly one last time before he returned to bed.


End file.
